


House of Memories

by AnonymousMink



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Don’t blame me, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, It’s another romance people, Kinky without actually being, Moral Ambiguity, Obsession, Possessive relationships, Yonvers - Freeform, another super problematic romance, bad ass heroes, questionable villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousMink/pseuds/AnonymousMink
Summary: —-His eyes hit her first. They always did.The world narrowed down to them, yellow gold and almost more familiar than her own.So many years and it might as well have been a minute, time twisting away from her as her heart clenched painfully. She schooled her face into stillness, she couldn’t show weakness, not here, not when the Xandarians were relying on her.Not when the whole universe seemed to be.—-When Carol Danvers is summoned to oversee the very first, very secret, negotiation between the Xandarians and the Kree she’s expecting just about anything but him. With two empires, billions of people and two very damaged hearts on the line,  what could possibly go wrong?—-





	1. Lonely Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DenseHumboldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenseHumboldt/gifts).



> Here we go again! Another fic I swore I wouldn’t write!
> 
> I blame DenseHumboldt entirely, her fics are the holy grail of Yonvers fan fiction, if you haven’t read them yet you are missing out! She inspired so much of this work, I can’t even begin to thank her!
> 
> As always if you’re reading one of my fics you can expect moral ambiguity, problematic relationships, super frustrating UST and a whole bunch of snack foods! Let’s do this!

 

 

**_2004_ **

**_The outer edge of the known universe_ **

 

 

 

The message light was blinking on her console, it had been ever since she’d left Sal-3M.

Green, low priority, low enough that Carol let herself ignore it until she’d broken orbit. Yellow meant trouble, orange meant danger, and red meant _move._ Setting the autopilot to drift towards the closest jump point she stared at the flashing little light for a long minute before sighing and turning away.

Food first. Then messages.

The mission on Sal hadn’t been particularly tricky. Taking out a meteor shower didn’t require much strategy after all, even if it had threatened to wipe out half the native population. But simple didn’t mean easy, it had still been long and repetitive. And _tiring._

Her fists ached with the memory of punching through the falling rocks. It hadn’t hurt, nothing really did when her energy was up, but it felt almost like it _should_ have done. A ghost of pain.

A reminder that she wasn’t just a weapon, a hero, a _thing._

“Please say there’s something other than leftover ration packs left,” she muttered to herself as she headed for the galley, “please please please please… _shit_.”

Of course not. She hadn’t remembered to stock up on the last trade planet and now she was reaping the rewards, crackers and protein slabs from here to the next jump. Yay for Carol. Tearing into the foil package with her teeth she loosened the neck of her suit, letting it pool on the floor at her feet as she stuffed down the dry food. Next time she was buying the good stuff, chocolate cake and Xandarian rum and rich, ripe yaro root.

The thought carried her through the rest of the ration pack. Pulling a battered band t-shirt on over her head, she headed back to the console. The blinking light wouldn’t wait forever.

Maybe Talos wanted to invite her to another Skrull naming ceremony. The colony was thriving now they’d found a home, the Kree too busy fighting new wars to come after them. She doubted they’d completely forgotten their old adversaries though, the Kree never did.

Still, she hadn’t really had a chance to see them since the settlement, touching down for snapshot visits before being dragged back into space on another mission. Same with earth. Same with everywhere.

She hated to admit it but it got kind of… _lonely_ sometimes. Was that ridiculous for a big deal hero to admit?

For six clear years and the twenty odd fuzzy ones before she’d always been a part of something. A team, a family, a friendship. Right or wrong, she’d always had someone she could go to at 4am with her head a mess and her heart racing.

Now there was nothing but the empty sky.

Yup, Carol thought, maybe she needed a vacation. Go someplace she was known and try and fill up the void that had gathered between her ribs before she headed back into the thick of it. Kicking her feet up on the dashboard she reached for the comm button just as the light went from green to orange.

Or not.

 

—-

 

He was in the med bay. Again.

Vers seemed celestial in front of him, pale beneath the white compression bandages, gold hair a halo around her head. Blue running into her veins.

Blood.

That’s what it all came down to in the end, all a Kree was worth. The blood of his Father and Mother. The blood he had taken from his enemies, for his Empire.

The blood he had been too weak to keep from shedding.

Blood was life. Blood was _soul._ And it was never, ever, given easily, not without a fight, without death on the line and glory on the horizon. Without the deepest of bonds to guide it.

Until now.

Yon Rogg was spilling his being into the body of the weapon he’d captured on C-53, the woman he didn’t know. No history between them but that moment, no connection stronger than the meeting of their eyes across the battlefield.

The ritual was ancient, a relic so old few Kree even considered it anymore when there were more modern bonding ceremonies to be had. It was a primal thing, a world of incense and chanting and old magic, it shouldn’t be performed here, not like this, so clinically between the cold white walls of the medbay. Sterile and, ironically, bloodless.

To share blood was to share a soul.

_His._

His soul, his responsibility. His guts or glory. Just… _his._

Only it wasn’t her at all.

The supreme intelligence opened her eyes, _Vers’_ eyes, face softening as she stepped down from the med-frame, blue spilling like ink where the IV jerked out. Wasted.

Yon dropped to his knees, eyes fixed to the floor as she moved towards him.

“I’m still like this am I, Yon-Rogg?” She asked, sighing with a stolen voice as the bandages became a familiar green suit. A red suit. His deepest desires had worn the same face for a decade, there was no hiding it. Even from himself.

“I see. Well, perhaps this is the very reason I need you now.”

His head jerked up, heart thundering like an engine between his ribs as she stood before him, “You need me?”

It had been so long, so very very long. He had returned to Halas in disgrace, fit only for only the lowest tasks. Menial jobs and suicide missions he was never supposed to survive.

But he did. Scraping and scratching to regain what he’d lost, to be the man he was supposed to be. The man he was before _her_ , the one who never doubted.

Never failed.

“It seems so,” cool fingers touched his chin, raising him to his feet with that teasing little smile she always gave him when they were alone, “there is talk of a treaty with Xandar, I would send you with the imperial party to shadow whoever they choose as an independent adjudicator.”

“ _Why?”_ He shouldn’t have questioned it but he couldn’t help himself, this place always weakened him. Her smile always weakened him.

“Because you are one of the few of my warriors who has imagined peace,” the SI said, the hospital room fading around them as his lungs constricted, “no, there are no denials here. You have imagined it as you’ve imagined her.” She gestured to Vers form, shooting another glance over her shoulder at him as she stopped in front of a great glassy black mirror. “And that is something I need now.”

To his shame he had. Imagining so many worlds with her, ones where she returned to the empire. Ones where he didn’t. Lives they could never lead.

The imperial family appeared in the mirror in front of him, the royal guard, the Xandarians, his father, brother, the city skyline, the universe. His breath caught as he watched the world he had so long been cut off from unfurl before his eyes, filling him with a painful longing. With _fear._

He stamped down on his emotions, they didn’t serve him. Not then, not now. He was beyond them.

He had to be.

“Go with them, protect them if the adjudicator becomes a threat.” She said, her words a benediction he didn’t deserve as she faced him again, her hand warm against his arm. The memory of touch, “Regain your honour, son of the house of Rogg. For the good of all Kree.”

“Yes Supreme,” he bowed again, hands clenched at his side tight enough to bruise, “it is always an honour to serve you.”

It was... wasn’t it?

 

——

 

“Thank you for coming Captain.”

The Nova Prime herself was waiting on the airpad for her as Carol descended the ramp of her ship, impeccable as always as she nodded a greeting.

Nulla wasn’t where she’d been expecting to end up when she’d gotten the alert. The planet had never made much of an impression in the galactic political landscape. A small world on the outer edge of the Kree/Xandarian border, it had always been content to keep itself to itself.

Until now.

“I’m happy to help in anyway I can ma’am,” Carol fell into step with the Prime, suited up to the max and ready for anything as they were escorted into the hastily prepared compound, guards scurrying too and fro. Their nerves palpable, “these talks are incredibly important.”

“That they are,” the Prime sighed, the weight of the situation seeming to hang over her like a cloud, “even if they’re not _officially_ happening. Getting the Kree to even agree to an unofficial meeting was a battle in itself, and now they’re here…”

“You’re worried it might be a trap?” Carol smiled despite herself, “it wouldn’t be the first time. But I have hope, and besides - if everything does go to hell, well,” she shrugged, “that’s what I’m here for, right?”

“I’d hoped you would be more of a symbol of peace,” the Prime replied with a wry twitch of her mouth, “but yes, there’s a certain level of comfort that comes from knowing you’ll be overseeing the event.”

“You just focus on the political stuff,” Carol grinned, punching her fists together and letting the sparks fly, “I’ll keep an eye on everything else. Is Mikel still heading up your security detail?”

“He is, a room has been prepared on the first floor for you. The talks don’t start until tomorrow but the Kree party is expected tonight for an unofficial welcome ceremony. Will you be ready?”

“Always am,” she nodded, slinging her backpack higher up her arm and rolling out her shoulders.

She hadn’t come up against the Kree in combat for a while now, not since they’d pushed too far into the Badoon Empire’s territory. It never seemed to get any easier facing them, they had once been her people after all. They’d trained her, lied to her, made her strong and weak in turns. They were her home and her enemy.

 _Definite_ mind fuck right there.

But the philosophical stuff could wait, she had a job to do. A job that started right after she’d made a quick stop by the kitchens for some real food before the party started.

No way was she facing the might of the Imperial Guard on a ration pack.

 

—-

 

The soldiers instincts never left him, faded though they might be from misuse. Sweep left, right, eyes up front, ears listening to everything that wasn’t being said.

He was at the back edge of the guard, a half dozen soldiers filling out the ranks in front of him, surrounding the second son of the Kree Emperor and his best advisors. All of them shared the same thought.

This was a bad idea.

A _dishonourable_ idea. Peace belonged in the lands beyond death, life was for war. For conquering. To induct others into their glorious empire and show them the true freedom of the Kree.

This _talk_ was weakness.

But they obeyed nonetheless. It was not their place to question their leaders, a motto he’d lived by as long as he could remember. Things weren’t always what they seemed after all.

The welcome party awaiting them on the air strip was as stilted as expected, the Imperial Prince led into the compound where the Nova Prime awaited them without much fanfare. This first meeting even more unofficial than the talks themselves, a way for the two sides to suss each other out. To see whether violence would be called for sooner or later.

Yon fell back into formation, keeping his position at the outer edge of the room as the guards fanned out around the diplomats in the greeting chamber. Feigning nonchalance even as they kept their eyes sharp for threats to their prince, for… for…

His train of thought stuttered, instincts blinded as a painfully familiar feeling crept over him. A warm shiver that worked from his belly to his brain and left him aching in its wake. Gritting his teeth he scanned the room, not for threats this time. Not for anything but…

_Her._

The SI’s rendering was a pale imitation in the face of her, a ghost. This… this was painfully real.

“I hope I’m not late,” she was smiling as she entered, a singular figure with her wrong-coloured suit and golden hair. She had a drink in her hand, playing with the straw as she tilted her head, “I stopped by the kitchens on the way up.”

She hadn’t seen him, stuck as he was in the ranks of the invisible. Spine tense enough to snap as he fought the urge to break free, to rush forward and confront her. Claim her. The Prince was saying something to her, the Nova Prime too, the words lost to the blood pounding in his ears.

The blood they shared.

Almost a decade had passed but Vers was still exactly as he remembered, same easy smile and flashing eyes as she took her place at the head of the room.

Still completely and utterly _his._

  


—-

 

Almost a decade had passed. A decade of war and pain and worthy struggle, but Ronan had never forgotten the weapon.

His oath sat heavy in the back of his mind, his promise to retrieve her for the Empire. To bring her into the fold and use her to unleash glorious destruction upon their enemies.

Now, at last, the time seemed finally at hand.

“Accuser,” the SI awaited him, his voice thundering through the marrow of Ronan’s bones as the image of his father towered above him, “the hour is close at hand. Ready your ship.”

“Yes, Supreme,” excitement beat blackly in his chest, the measured righteousness of the true believer. “How is it to be done?”

“I have baited the trap, she will not be able to resist the lure.” The SI didn’t smile, he never did, but his eyes betrayed the burn of his feelings. Rich purple and sharp as a blade, “when the moment is right he will lead her into your waiting arms.”

“It shall be as you say,” Ronan bowed his head, veins pulsing with renewed life. He had a mission again, a purpose, one that would bring the universe to its knees before them.

“Careful now,” the SI warned, his stave slamming into the flagstones like a warning bell, “subtly is called for in this mission, you who are the most bloody of my children must watch yourself. There will be time for glory after it is done. Xandar will fall into line, the whole universe will.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” turning away the SI looked up at the screen, the image of the weapon burning gold across it. Like a beacon. “do not underestimate her, son. You have seen her power, if she cannot be destroyed then she must be turned back to our cause. Her weaknesses burnt out with strength. Are you ready?”

”Always.”

For this, at least, death could wait; the fire he longed to rain down upon these so called ‘peace’ talks halted for now. It would be worth it. What were necroblasts compared to her? A weapon so divine it would make warheads look like children's toys.

She was destruction made flesh, and _he_ would be the one to wield her.

 


	2. Eyes to Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which I take DenseHumboldt’s Yonvers writing advice very seriously. When in doubt, fist fight!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and commenting, you’re making this lovely little canoe we’re in all the lovelier! 💜

    

Something was wrong.

The gnawing feeling in the pit of Carol’s stomach hadn’t faded with food, it had only grown worse. An itching beneath her skin she couldn’t shake as she went through the motions with the Nova Prime and the Kree Prince. Her smile tight during the tense, ritualistic greeting; each word carefully chosen on both sides as she tried not to fuck anything up with her own mouth.

She still wasn’t used to being on this end of diplomacy. It was an unfair truth but, no matter how much she believed in peace, she had always been better at war. If a problem couldn’t be punched in the face then it wasn’t really her wheelhouse.

Mikel met her as she left the diplomats to their discussions, she listened with a half an ear as he filled her in on the security protocol she’d already memorised. The rest of her attention was fixed elsewhere, scanning the ranks of the room for threats. Determined to find the source of the discomfort that had her blood congealing like syrup in her veins before it found her.

His eyes hit her first.

They always did.

The world narrowed down to them, yellow gold and almost more familiar than her own.

So many years and it might as well have been a minute, time twisting away from her as her heart clenched painfully. She schooled her face into impassivity, she couldn’t show weakness, not here, not when the Xandarians were relying on her.

Not when the entire universe seemed to be.

Forcing herself to nod at what Mikel was saying she followed his lead, stomach churning like a frog in a blender as they crossed the room.

“You know the Xandarian team,” He said, voice little more than a buzz in her ear, “headed up by Rhomann, Jana, Stialls, and Hacknah.”

The golden eyes never left her, a heavy weight between her shoulder blades as she made herself acknowledge the Nova Corp team. More files she’d memorised on the flight over, Rhomann Dey, Corpsman, Jana Stick… Corps...

Too late. They were moving past them already, the crowd parting like the tide. Inevitable, unstoppable.

_Him._

“And this,” Mikel drew to a halt, “is the Kree security liaison officer, Commander Yon-Rogg.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“We’ve met.” A muscle in his jaw jumped as he spoke, his voice exactly as she remembered. Smooth and balanced and just a little bit clipped. How could she forget it? It had been the first thing she’d heard back… back _then_. Her first real memory.

“A long time ago,” she heard herself reply, proud of how steady she sounded as she nodded to him as if nothing was wrong. As if she wasn’t drowning.

“Great,” Mikel was talking again but she couldn’t make sense of the words, her heart was beating too loudly. A war drum thundering with stolen blood in her chest, “I’ll leave you two to discuss the arrangements then.”

He was gone and they were alone in the crowd, time stopping completely. The air thick as molasses as she stared at him, trapped in a dream. A memory. A spell she couldn’t seem to escape.

“ _Vers_.” His voice cracked on the name and the spell broke.

 _No._  Not again.

She wasn’t that person anymore and this man was nothing but a familiar stranger to her. It didn’t matter that her brain rebelled at seeing him in Imperial Guard purple as opposed to Star Force green, it was just another reminder that she didn’t know him.

That he was just another face now.

“That’s not my name anymore,” she lifted her chin, shoulders held straight as she plunged back into reality like ice water, “you might have heard.”

“They call you Captain now,” he said, ever so slightly mocking as his gaze flickered over her suit. The sensation almost physical, “Car-Ol Dan- _Veers_.”

“Vurs.” She corrected, “Carol Dan- _vurs._ Two words, four syllables. Keep up.”

“If you say so,” his eyes were on hers again but she wouldn’t let herself sink.

“You’re the Kree’s security liaison, commander,” she walked away, not looking back as she spoke, “so liaise. How many warriors have you brought?”

“Twenty, as agreed,” He fell into line behind her, the first victory hers, “ten imperial guards, five warrior-corps, four security specialists, and me.”

“No Star Force?” She arched an eyebrow, something vindictive in her gloating when he flinched. The reaction so small anyone else would have missed it.

She didn’t.

 

—-

 

Three minutes in her presence and Yon was ready to break his training and throttle her.

He hadn’t forgotten the effect she had on him, he doubted he ever could, but time had dimmed its potency. She was unbearable, irritating, intoxicating and _everything._

He hated how vulnerable she made him feel, hated how much he craved it as he followed in her wake. Pulled after her like a moon in orbit as she bit out questions like they were any other people.

Like their worlds hadn’t shifted.

But fine. If she wanted to feign indifference he could play that game too. Replying to every question with the cool command he’d worked so hard to achieve, even as his blood surged silently in his veins. Crashing against his skin as if begging to be closer, to fill the void she’d left.

He ignored it.

“Mae and Sae-Lem are responsible for the Prince’s personal security,” He nodded briskly as she paused at the far edge of the room, the position just out of earshot of the diplomats but with a good vantage of everything. An excellent place strategically, “They are some of our best. Well the best we have left, you have killed an awful lot of our warriors, _Captain._ ”

“I suppose I have.” She replied, apparently unphased as her eyes strayed over the room. The control he’d tried so hard to instil in her seeming almost effortless now.

“How many do you think?” He couldn’t help himself, prodding at it like a sore tooth, desperate for a reaction even as he refused to give her the same.

He wanted to hurt her, strike her or kiss her. Anything to break her cool facade.

Anything to prove she was just as tormented as he was.

Vers just shrugged, “I didn’t keep count.” 

 

—-

 

Carol couldn’t sleep, not that that surprised her.

She paced her quarters, turning back and forth until she was worried she’d wear a hole in the carpet. Sparks flickered from her skin, fists glowing with unspent energy as she clenched and unclenched them at her side.

Yon-Rogg was here.

She shouldn’t be surprised, he was the best warrior the Kree had. Why wouldn’t he be here? It was just… it had been so long. Years and years with no sign of him, no word, not that she’d looked of course. It hadn’t been like she’d sought him out in the face of every enemy, every stranger, ears straining desperately to hear the cadence of his voice in every backwater bar and battlefield she’d ended up in.

That would be insane.

Which is exactly what she would be if she admitted to missing the man who destroyed her world and killed her friends. _Insane._

Frustration vibrated in her bones, a hollow anger that no amount of pacing would fix. Growling at herself she snatched her bag from the side; it was no good, she needed to work out the tension the only way she knew how.

She needed to punch the shit out of something.

The compound was silent as she stalked through it, night hanging thick and dark over the moonless planet. The few guards she passed only nodded to her, wise enough not to say anything as she headed for the gym Mikel had pointed out to her earlier. She pulled the door to the sparse little room shut tight behind her, this could get loud.

And destructive.

“Do you know what time it is?”

She froze.

Yon-Rogg turned from the window, the security lights outside painting his face golden as he looked across at her. Her heart stuttered, stomach flipping a full 360 as she stared at him for the longest moment in her life.

She’d slipped into a dream, a different room perhaps but the same memory. The same midnight walk to his door, the same desperation for relief only he could provide.

 _It’s not then,_ she shouted at herself, gritting her teeth against the sensation of falling, _it’s now. It’s reality and you don’t need anything from him._

“What are you doing here?” She asked, forcing herself to take one step forward after another. It was too late to turn back now, she wouldn’t run, not from him. No matter how much she might want to.

He arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked her up and down, “I could ask you the same question.”

“It’s a _gym_ ,” she shot back on instinct, thanking whatever gods watched over her that she still had enough brainpower to be sarcastic, “what do you think?”

He kicked off from the back wall, broad shoulders relaxed as he strolled towards her, “I think you can’t sleep. Bad dreams again, Vers?”

“Captain Danvers,” she snapped, “and don’t do that.”

He held up his hands, the picture of innocence even as she seethed, “do what?”

“ _That,”_ her hands were glowing again, fingers twitching as she tried to pull it back in, to show him he couldn’t affect her. Not any more. “Don’t act like you _know_ me.”

That got him. The nonchalant facade crumbled, his eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between them.

“ _Know you?_ ” He repeated, voice dropping in hushed disbelief, “of course I know you. I know you better than anyone does, anyone ever _will._ No matter what you call yourself.”

“Bullshit,” she spat, matching him step for step, “all you know is the lies you told yourself. You used me.”

“I _made_ you.” He snarled, so close she could have counted his eyelashes, “I know your dreams, Vers, your fears and secrets. I’ve seen you at your weakest and I made you strong. You can’t ignore me, I’m in your _veins_.”

She swung first. She always did. Too impatient for him to make the first move, too reckless. Fire trapped in her bones as she aimed for that perfect square jaw of his, feeling the crunch of bone. The sharp pain in her knuckles as she kept her powers locked down inside her. She didn’t need them this time.

She wanted the satisfaction of kicking his ass all by herself.

He rubbed his jaw, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as he exhaled, “this feels familiar.”

He was ready for the next hit, body twisting and sending her punch wide. He caught her wrist on the rebound, leg twisting around hers and bringing her down. She rolled, bouncing back onto her feet and launching herself at him again before he had time to strike again.

Her heart raced as she parried and punched and kicked. Alive in the moment. He tried to topple her again but she was too fast, recognising the move before he finished it and turning his strength against him. It had been a long time since she’d fought like this, falling into the pattern of it like a feather bed. A very violent feather bed.

There was nothing like watching him fall. Now if only he’d stop getting back up again...

“What, no powers?” He mocked, smile razor sharp as he gained the upper hand in a dizzying movement. She’d been distracted by her almost victory and she was paying for it, her arm twisted painfully behind her as he dragged her against his chest. Unforgiving as he held her tight against the hard line of his body.

“No,” she counted down from three in her head, his breath a hot pant against her ear, every ridge of his body tattooed against her.

2… 1…

She twisted, hips bucking backwards into him as she threw him off balance. Adrenaline burst against her tongue, bitter sweet as she slipped loose of his grip, hooking her foot behind his knee and pulling hard. She pressed her advantage, knocking him into the mat with the full force of her body and holding him there.

“I don’t need powers to beat you anymore.”

Her hair snarled in front of her eyes, triumph pulsing through her like a drug as she held him down. Barely registering the heated flesh beneath her own, the way he groaned as she pressed into him, hands locked around his wrists as she tightened her thighs around his waist.

She didn’t see him move.

One second she was bathing in the glow of victory, the next she was struggling for breath as he flipped her onto her back. Her stomach lurched, lungs heaving as she struggled to make sense of the sudden reversal.

He was breathing hard, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers with every ragged exhale as he held her down.

She could throw him off in a second. A flare of power, a spark of her fingertips, and he’d been out of the window and across the airfield.

She didn’t move.

There was barely a suggestion of gold in his eyes anymore, the colour swallowed by the black of his pupils. His lips parted, wet and heated as he leant into her.

“I missed you, Vers.”

 

—-

 

He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to weaken in the face of her, but there it was. The words hanging between them like smoke.

She was beyond comparison, face flushed as she looked up at him with dark eyes, her body warm beneath his. How could he ever have thought the SI looked like her? How could it have possibly captured the quality of her gaze, the way her emotions shifted across her face like sand.

“You have a weird way of showing it,” she muttered, defiant even as she lay prone beneath him. Their bodies fitting like they were made for it, “how am I supposed to believe you, anyway? How can I believe anything you say...”

His grip on her wrists eased, loosening until he was barely brushing his fingers over them. Feeling the pulse beating strong and true beneath her skin.

“You’ve been a hole in my chest for the last nine years,” he told her, the words spilling out like blood from a wound, “Not knowing where you were, if you were alright, what dusty backwards planet on the edge of the universe was being watered with your blood. _My_ blood. It was torture.”

Her breath hitched.

“Last time I saw you you tried to kill me,” her eyes narrowed, “you lied to me. You killed innocents, you killed my friends.”

“I obeyed my god. I did my duty for my people.”

“You were wrong, your god was wrong.” She shifted at last. He let her push him away, cold rushing in in her wake as he settled back onto his knees. The tension draining and leaving him exhausted as she mirrored his position.

“Who am I to question it?” He asked, the empty ache in his chest returning with a vengeance. A hollow void that made the scant few inches between them into miles, “I’m a soldier, Vers. We all are.”

“I’m not,” she replied, rubbing her wrists as she looked warily across at him. Almost feral, as if one wrong move might send her away for good. “Not any more. I make my own decisions.”

“A luxury we don’t all have,” he sighed, wiping the sweat from his face, “besides it wasn’t all lies. I really am proud of you.”

She drew a sharp breath, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she covered the expression. Tugging her hair away from her face with a scowl.

“Even though I’m fighting your empire?” She asked, eyebrows hitching at him sarcasticly, “Even though you left me free falling into orbit?”

“Maybe I always believed you could fly.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, lips thinning the way they always did when she was trying not to smile. It felt more like a victory than pinning her ever had.

“Smart ass.” She rose to her feet, hesitating for a second before holding her hand out to him.

Swallowing thickly he took it, trying to ignore the way his skin burnt wherever it touched hers.

“Anyway,” he asked lightly, trying to preserve the fragile moment, “what do you call leaving me on an exploding cruiser?”

“It _was_ a battle,” she pointed out, her hand still warm in his. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not yet. Not now.

“It was.” He agreed, “we were at war.”

She sank her teeth into lip, eyes flashing warily as she looked up at him, “are we now?”

That was the question, his Empire verses the Xandarians. His beliefs verses hers. _Them_.

“I hope not.”

 


	3. Haunt Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for another chapter of ‘Carol and Yon are really bad at their jobs because they’re too busy being hopelessly in love with each other and too stubborn to realise it.’
> 
> On with the show!

 

Carol wasn’t entirely sure what a nervous breakdown felt like but she was pretty sure this was it.

She couldn’t focus. Physically she was there, sure, standing sentinel over the fragile peace talks, but her mind was miles away.  She couldn’t shake him, she never really had. In the daylight she could pretend she’d forgotten but sleep had been making a liar of her for years.

Yon Rogg had been haunting her dreams since the moment she’d shot him into space.

Sometimes it would be memories, the late night sparring and early morning talks. The missions and meals. The smile he saved just for her, a very particular blend of mirth and utter exasperation. 

He’d been her mentor, her saviour, her… friend.

Other times her brain twisted, his yellow eyes turning cold. Gaze like a blade as he fought her, as he slaughtered her friends around her whilst she screamed and pleaded. Whilst she beat him bloody, hitting and hitting until he stopped moving and she woke up with tears on her face.

They weren’t the worst of them though, no the worst ones were the  _ other  _ dreams. The times the fights would turn into something else, heated touches and desperate gasps. Sweat slick skin and the weight of his mouth on hers.

The dreams that no amount of ice cold showers or punishing workouts could ever truly cure. The ones that had started  _ long  _ before the mission to C-53.

She caught sight of him across the room, eyes returning to him again and again without meaning too as he stood guard. Her stomach squeezed guiltily at the train of her thoughts, all too aware of how hung up she still was on the memory of the night before. She could feel the weight of him of top of her now if she closed her eyes, his breath ragged against her cheek as he pressed her into the mat.

Annnnd nope, that was  _ not _ an appropriate topic to be thinking about during possibly the most important meeting in the history of two empires. She had a duty to uphold, especially since the peace talks weren’t exactly going well. The imperial snobbery of the Kree grated against the absolute practicality of the Xandarians, the two cultures at complete odds with each other with very little middle ground to be found between. Especially when it kept coming back to who massacred who, where, and why.

With all that on the line her breakdown could certainly wait until after dinner at least.

Speaking of…

“That draws the discussion to a close for this session,” the mistress of ceremonies was standing, the argument that had broken out hushing in her wake as she gestured to the diplomats with graceful movements, “let the noble parties part in good faith, and meditate over the words spoken here today over rest and sustenance.”

 

—-

 

Yon Rogg didn’t hear a single word said, the hours dragging past like ice ages as he stood guard at the edge of the hall. A statue, a soldier, a good Kree. On the outside at least.

On the inside he was burning.

He couldn’t look at her, his gaze fixed where it was expected on the proceedings taking place, but he was still hyper aware of her every movement. Every breath. Twenty four hours and it was like the last decade hadn’t happened.

How he had survived without her, the bond shrivelled and weak within him, he didn’t know, only that he couldn’t go back. He felt like he was breathing; truly, properly breathing, for the first time in his life. The air sweeter than summer wine as the doomed meeting wrapped up in front of him.

The party broke up and he found himself moving on instinct, he told himself it was his duty. The SI had instructed him to shadow the adjudicator,  _ her _ , but the mission was a distant guilty throb now. When he followed her it was because he wanted to.

He needed to.

“Captain Dan-vers,” the name was wrong but it was as close as he could get. He wouldn’t use her title, the name of the dead traitor. That was too much like playing with fire.

“Commander Yon-Rogg,” she nodded, her throat working as she swallowed. The only external sign that she was feeling half of what he was.

“Will you be joining the diplomatic supper?” He asked.

“My services are not required for that  _ particular _ event,” she said, her face twitching in relief she couldn’t quite cover. No more a diplomat than he was.

“So Yaro root fritters in the kitchen then?” He couldn't help but smile, arching an eyebrow at her knowingly, “unless you intend to find a soup cart to over turn again.”

“That was one time!” She exclaimed hotly, face coming alive as she turned on him, “and it was an accident, I didn’t mean to bump it so hard I just got excited. They had-”

“Berran Chowder.” He finished for her, “Yes we all know what you’d do for that. It’s a good thing they didn’t have Lyan Cobbler or else you’d have taken out the city block.”

“Unfair,” she grinned as they passed through the empty archway that led to the old servants quarters and the kitchen below, “that was…” the words fell away, the laughter fading from her face as she looked at him. “That was a long time ago.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, echoing off the empty stone. Rusted metal sconces and brackets hung from the wall in various states of decay, the work they’d done to the compound hadn’t extended this far obviously.

A surface change that hadn’t touched the truth within.

The tension that followed them eased slowly as the days passed, falling unconsciously into their old familiarity - even tempered as it was by the changes the years had wrought. Finding them in the empty kitchens again and again as the days passed.

She didn’t come to the gym after dark anymore though. He wished he could say he hadn’t waited for her, but that would be a lie. He slept there most nights now.

It was an irony that wasn’t lost on him; that he, the source of so many of her nightmares, was still hoping to be their cure.

Still, each day they ate together the tension eased a fraction more, as if they were engaging in their own little peace talks.

“Admit it,” she was gesturing to him with half a sandwich, chewing openly as they skipped from topic to topic in the late afternoon lull. Careful not to touch anything too sore and ruin the fragile calm, “you’re intimidated by my super powers. It’s very common, really. Most everyone is.”

“I would be intimidated by you anyway,” he admitted easily, “you’re terrifying. You don’t follow orders, you’ve never been on time in your whole life, not to mention the fact you eat like a Sakaarian Garbage Rat.”

“Harsh,” she nodded, “but fair.” Wiping her hands on her suit in a way that had him trying not to grimace she cocked her head towards him, “so, do you really think  _this_  is going to happen?”

He blanched, alarms shrieking in his skull at her question, “ _ What _ ?”

“These peace talks.”

_ Oh _ . That.

He shrugged his shoulders, “have you ever known us to be a peaceful people?”

“ _ Rest is what waits in the land beyond death,”  _ she quoted with a sigh, “ _ life is the fight until you get there. _ ”

The warriors’ words.

“It’s unsustainable, you know,” she added, looking up at him, loom dark eyes far too serious all of a sudden, “war. Conquest. What’s left when you’ve killed everyone who disagrees with you and assimilated the rest?”

“I’ve never really thought about it.”

It wasn’t his place to think about it. His conviction in his people, his cause, had always been rock solid. 

Until he met her.

“I have,” she said, the last of their dinner sitting abandoned between them, forgotten as she kicked her legs gently back and forth, “we can only survive if we adapt, if we strive to be better.”

“You were one of us, Vers,” he said, suddenly morbidly curious, “you lived our life. Do you believe we can… adapt?”

When she met his gaze he regretted the question, knowing he was really asking something far more personal, and far more dangerous. Something he wasn’t ready to face yet.

“Yes,” she said with absolute conviction, “I have too believe it.”

He swallowed around a dry throat, suddenly fascinated by the chronometer on his gauntlet.

“The evening session will be starting soon, we should head back.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, hopping down from the table and turning to the fruit board, “lemme just grab another slice of Lyan fruit for the road. You can’t even find it on most planets.”

With good reason. It was unbearably sweet, how she could stomach it was beyond him. He was opening his mouth to say as much when she shuddered, the knife clattering to the floor.

“ _ Shit.” _

“What is it?” He was on her in an instant, chest restricting as her face twisted in pain. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a cut,” she scowled, holding up her hand as adrenaline flooded his system, “the knife slipped. No big deal, I can heal it in a… Yon?”

He couldn’t hear her, the world narrowing down around him. Blood. It always came back to blood. The thin river snaking across the pad of her thumb.

Sapphire blue.

His.

Still his.

Heat flushed through him, raw and primal. Needing to protect, to possess. To know he was in her heart as well as he veins. 

 

—-

 

“Yon…” Carol felt like her lungs had shrunk, breathing shallowly around the vice in her chest as she warily eyed up her former Commander, “What’s going on?”

He grabbed her hand, holding it carefully,  _ gently,  _ like she’d been mortally wounded instead of idiotically cutting herself because she couldn’t think when he was around. If her powers were up the blade would never would have made it through her skin. 

Her head was still spinning with his stupid, meaningful question. Could they change? Could they dedicate all that power they used to crush, to free? To be the warrior-heroes they always claimed? Could he?

Could he maybe stop staring at her like she had the answers written across her skin in blue?

“ _ Vers _ ,” he shuddered as he said the name, his inflection changed over the past few days. Fewer e’s in it now. No longer  _ Veers _ but  _ Vers _ , like Dan _ vers _ . It didn’t sting as much when he said it like that. “ _ Anam ie a anam. _ ”

“What?” She asked, the Kree dialect so old she couldn’t translate it. 

She pulled back, carefully trying to prise her hand free only to find him holding fast. Keeping her trapped there as heat licked through her, burning sweetly every place their skin touched. It was heady, distracting, mixing with the distant sting of pain and becoming confused in her head.

Time slowed as he drew closer, the air suddenly too thick to breathe as he drew her hand towards him. His tongue snaked out, licking a wide stripe over the cut, warm and wet as he sealed his mouth around the digit and sucked it clean.

Her knees locked, lightning screaming through her and leaving her gasping at the intimate act. Heat pooled  low in her belly, thighs clenching weakly as he  _ groaned.  _ His body shuddering as he released her hand at last.

“Tell me what’s going on” She demanded, mouth painfully dry as she took a careful step back. Then another. The wound already knitted together, throbbing in time with her heart beat as she stared at him, “What was  _ that _ ? What did that mean?”

“Not here,” he murmured, looking at her through hooded eyes, “not now.”

There was something almost reverential about his gaze.

It scared her.

“After the talks tonight. My room.” The words were louder than she intended, clipped and harsh and  _ really _ fucking stupid. “You’ll explain yourself then.”

She never would have suggested it if she had been thinking straight.

 

 


	4. Electric Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to DenseHumboldt for helping me get through this one (and for writing the best Yonvers fics a girl could ever read!)
> 
> And to you lovely readers for taking a chance and reading/commenting - you are the best of people and you should know it!

 

 

Patience was an art form. Like war. It required practice, diligence,  _ skill. _

Ronan was training in it even now, everything readied as the cruiser fell into orbit around the pitiful little planet below, carefully cloaked from its inhabitants. It was a fragile little world really, so small he could destroy it with one command. Not that he would, not until he had gotten what he’d came for at least.

The screen danced with images of her, every file in the Kree database, every news report since, even the pathetic Terran information on who she’d been  _ before _ . He’d seen it all, devoured it all, learning every inch of her from within so he would know how best to break her. To knock down the weakness and rebuild her in glorious strength.

In his own image.

The golden figure arched across the screen on a loop, a falling star he was so close to catching.

Patience. Until he got the signal he would hold his position. Until he got the signal he would wait. 

She would be his soon enough.

 

—-

  
  


“Talk.” 

The door snapped shut, echoing through the room with a gunshot finality as Carol turned on the man who’d been messing with her head for far too long now.

The peace talks had stretched even longer than before, the tension threatening to drown her until she was ready to blast them all to pieces just to get it over with. By the time they’d finally ended night had fallen again and she was about ready to scream.

Her skin  _ ached _ , throbbing with the memory of his touch. The way he’d drawn her blood to his lips and…

_ Fuck. _

Why did it feel like this? Like if she didn’t see him, didn’t  _ touch _ him she’d self-combust. What had he done to her?

Yon had turned away from her, staring into the empty room as if she hadn’t spoken. Oh  _ hell _ no, he couldn’t walk away from her now, not after whatever… whatever  _ that  _ was. 

She grabbed him and forced him to face her, regretting it when she did. The man who looked back at her was almost unrecognisable, something wild in his eyes she’d never seen before.

Feral and possessive _. _

“Tell me what’s going on.” She caught her breath, hand lingering on the broad plain of his shoulder for a fraction too long before she pulled away. Folding her arms against her ribs, hands clenched tight lest she get the sudden urge to reach for him again.

He was the one always preaching about control after all.

“There are things in our society you don’t understand,” his voice was lower than she expected, a quiet rumble she swore she could feel in her chest as he met her eyes, “that you never  _ needed _ to understand. Ancient rites you were never taught about.”

“What do you mean?” She tried to keep her words calm even as her head spun, dizzy with the scent of him. This close she couldn’t escape it, soap and boot polish and  _ sky.  _

He was everywhere and she hated him for it.

“Blood,” he didn’t look away and suddenly she wished he would, anything to escape the intensity of his gaze, “it’s the only thing that matters to a Kree. We don’t share it.”

Her heart sunk,“You did.” 

“I did,” he agreed, the space between them shrinking as he raised a hand carefully towards her. His fingers tracing the air above her cheek, “You needed Kree blood to survive the effects of the power core, but to share blood… it’s to share a soul.” He let out a sharp breath, “you have carried part of mine with you every day since, Carol Danvers.”

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” she lied, insides aching under the onslaught of her heart. Of the sound of her name on his lips.

She should walk away. Right now. Forget this conversation ever happened. Forget him.

“Don’t you?” His voice dropped, frustration burning in every word as he drew closer still, “Don’t you  _ feel _ this?”

The air was thick enough to choke on, her lungs heaving as she struggled to find the breath to deny it. To tell him she felt nothing.

She couldn’t. 

The pull was too strong, a magnet between her ribs that seemed to snap back to him every time she tried to pull away. It was inexplicable, like there’d been a hole in her chest the whole time they’d been apart that she hadn’t even realised was there. Not until she’d seen him again.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She heard herself ask, drowning in self-loathing as his breath ghosted across her skin. “Why tell me this now?”

It was unfair. It was  _ so _ unfair. She’d been doing fine before him. She didn’t need this.  _ Him _ .

“I couldn’t tell you then,” his hand dropped, palm settling against her hip and she lost a little more of her sanity. Unfolding her arms she pressed her hands to his chest, to shove him away or pull him closer though she didn’t know. “You were under my command, a warrior in my unit. I had to protect you, even from myself.”

“I don’t understand.” She was slipping and she knew it, falling into his heat, his pull, a black hole she couldn’t escape from no matter how hard she tried.

“Yes you do,” he was so close his lips brushed her cheek with every word, his fingers scraping her side. Scorching a path along her ribs as he drew her into him. “You know you’re mine, Vers. You knew even then. Mine to protect, to strengthen, to care for. I lived in purgatory for six years, so close to you and yet unable to possess you, I’ve lived in hell since. And now… now you’re here.”

He drew back a scant few inches, forehead pressed against hers as they shared breath. Her heart beating a guilty tattoo against her ribs as desire and disgust battled for control of her.

How easy would it be to give into him, into the  _ pull _ , to be someone’s. His. Always. To never be lonely again.

She couldn’t. 

It wasn’t how she was made.

“I’m not yours,” she swallowed thickly, bracing her hands against his chest more firmly, “I’m not anyone’s but my own.”

“You are,” he insisted, inevitable as the dawn as he brushed a feather light kiss to the corner of her mouth, “and I’m yours too. I will know no other until the day I die, I will  _ want _ no other. For me it’s you, Vers, it’s always been you.”

“It can’t be,” the fabric of his shirt was unbearably soft, warm beneath her fingers as she traced a path to his heart. Feeling it beat in time with her own, “I won’t go back there, Yon, and you… you won’t give it up.”

“I don’t care.”

She should have struck then, blasted him across the room and never looked back.

Instead she kissed him.

Like an idiot.

It was like kissing fire, the sensation burning through her as she threw herself at him. She wanted to punish him. Hurt him for making her feel like this.

For making her  _ feel. _

She sank her teeth into his lip, pulling hard and feeling his groan rumble through her like thunder. His hands clenched against her hips tight enough to bruise as the sweet taste of blood burst against her tongue.

_ Blood _ .

Wasn’t that what he said it all came down to?

She pulled away, chest screaming as she glared at him. His lip swollen and stained with blue.

“This isn’t real,” she shook her head, hands squeezing so tight she felt her bones creak, “this isn’t right. It’s just some freakish science experiment.”

“ _ Vers _ -”

“No! You said it yourself. It’s the blood that’s making us feel like this.” Her eyes stung, heat pricking behind her eyelids as she forced herself to hold his gaze, “it’s not us.”

His face darkened, pacing after her like they were attached by a wire. Two beings perfectly in sync with each other.

“Was it the blood sparring with me when you couldn’t sleep?” He demanded, yellow eyes bright in the half light as he crowded into her, “did it join me on every mission? Was it the blood that sat with me in that kitchen down stairs and talked so carefully around our past? That  _ kissed _ me?” He was right in front of her, breathing so hard she could feel it in her bones, “the blood may have joined our souls, but you Carol…  _ you _ stole my heart.”

Her back hit the wall, cool concrete flush against the heat of her skin through her suit. Every inch of her alight, begging for something she still fought to deny.

“I should hate you.” She whispered, drowning in the scent of him as he approached. Her whole world narrowing down to this moment, this man.

The doomed bond that seemed to bind them like a noose.

 

—-

 

_ I should hate you. _

The words hit him in every soft, unguarded place he had left. Burrowing deep into the marrow of his bones as he moved into her again.

Desperation. That was what this was, this all consuming static that filled his veins like ice water. Her kiss, her touch, it was  _ right.  _ A perfect homecoming, and it was time she stopped denying it.

“Do you hate me?” He asked through gritted teeth, stopping just shy of touching her. He wanted too, heavens knew how he wanted too, but he wouldn’t. 

Not until she let him.

“I should,” she glared at him, shoulders shaking even as she tilted her head back defiantly, “you helped brainwash me, you killed my friends. I would have every _right_ to hate you.”

“But you don’t,” his chest tightened, fighting the urge to reach for her even now. “You want me to apologise for the past but how can I? Everything I did, I did in the service of my people, my  _ god _ . If I doubted that then I’d have to doubt  _ everything _ .”

“So doubt it!” She made the first move, catching his face fiercely between her hands as the space between them vanished, “doubt it, Yon. Be more than your orders. Make your own damned decision this time.”

“There is no decision,” he said, watching as her face fell. Her hands faltered, pulled sharply back as betrayal broke over her features. He caught her first, “there’s only you.”

Her breath caught, petal soft lips falling open as she stared up at him. Looking at him so hard he wondered if she could see right through him, every strength and weakness and shameful desire. If she could see the way she’d reordered his life, twisting every inch of it around one central column.

Around  _ her _ .

“Yon…” she shook her head, lost for words for the first time since he’d met her.

He didn’t have any either.

Instead he released her wrists, watching her carefully as he curved his hand against her cheek. A single sign of discomfort, a flicker of warning, and he would go. No matter how much it hurt.

Instead she let him, eyes fluttering shut as he guided her face to his.

Heart stuttering in his chest he poured out his devotion the only way he knew how, one hand braced against her spine as he kissed her with all the sweetness in his soul. It was slower this time, delicate even, a careful negotiation as she met every brush of his lips with her own. Soft and warm and welcoming as he tasted the seam of her mouth.

She gasped against him, allowing him entry into the heat of her. The faint trace of his blood lingering on her tongue as he deepened the kiss. The fire rose. Burning through him like lightning at the taste of it,  _ him _ , electric heat in his veins as he dragged her against him, her hands scrabbling desperately against his shoulders. 

It was almost too much. The feeling of her melting against him, her hips canting into his as she fought back. Matching his urgency kiss for kiss, bold and fearless as she rocked herself against him. Soft flesh against his hardness.

“ _ Vers,”  _ he gasped, the only prayer he knew as she hitched her thigh over his, the layers between them scratching into him like burlap with every desperate movement, “Vers please-”

He wasn’t sure what he was going to ask. To demand she stop this torment before he undid himself completely. To beg her to continue. 

“Carol,” she growled, dragging his hand to her hip. He willingly complied, hauling her up against his body, her thighs wrapped around his waist until he could feel the heat of her through their clothes, “say it.”

“Carol,” he repeated into her neck. Pressing hot, wet kisses to the softness there with teeth and lips combined, desperate to mark her. To prove that this was real. “Fuck,  _ Carol.” _

She grinned, dragging his face up to hers again as her hips worked in a desperate rhythm against him, leaving him fighting for control as she ran her hands through his hair. Tugging at the roots as she whispered, “that’s the plan.”

His pulse thundered, swallowing hard as he matched her smile. A willing slave to her every demand. 

Especially this one.

 

—-

 

Consciousness came slowly to her, Carol didn’t know why but she didn’t want to wake up. She was too comfortable, too sated.

The feeling was so strange it took her a moment to recognise it.  _ Contentment. _ She felt content, warm and safe under soft cyra-silk sheets, the steady sound of breathing washing over her.

The hollow in her chest had eased, filled up by the memory of touch. His touch.  _ Yon-Rogg.  _ She knew what the weight beside her was now, recognising the feel of him even with her eyes closed. Feeling the hitch in his breathing as much as hearing it, the way he rolled towards her, the weight of his eyes lying unseen against her.

“It’s creepy to stare at people while they’re sleeping,” she grumbled, hearing the surprised huff of laughter before she finally cracked an eyelid open.

It was still dark, the flood lights outside the only source of illumination. They played off his features, the relaxed smile and tousled hair. He looked so happy it made her chest ache.

“You should have considered that before you decided to look like that,” he chuckled, leaning over to look at her better. So close she could count his eyelashes.

She narrowed her eyes at him even as she felt her own lips twitch, eyes darting down as she muttered, “coming from the guy with a six pack.”

His brow furrowed, fingers toying idly with her hair as he asked, “what’s a six pack?”

Ah yes. There was no proper Kree translation for that one. And here she thought abs of steel were a universal language.

“My weakness apparently.”

She reached over, fingers following the path her eyes had taken, feeling every ridge and scar. He was beautiful. There were no two ways around it. Utterly devastating to look at even though she knew his body was built for strength not aesthetics.

Heat danced through her veins, pooling in her cheeks as she remembered how she’d touched those muscles the night before. Tasting him on her tongue as she’d scraped her mouth over his heart beat. Biting down as if she could capture it for herself.

Clearing her throat as she looked up again, hand lingering just over the largest scar. A jagged white line that sat just above his navel. 

“You never did tell me how you got this,” she said, “Bron-Char once told me it was during a deathmatch with a Talasien Berserker.”

“He would,” Yon captured her hand, pulling it up between them and intertwining their fingers, starlight dancing over her skin every place it met his, “it’s a good story though. I think I’ll stick with it.”

“ _ Yon,”  _ she felt her mouth twitch again, squeezing his hand as he tried to dodge her question.

“Fine,” he sighed, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand before releasing her, “I can tell you I definitely did  _ not _ get it in a bar fight before I joined the academy.”

She felt her eyes widen, trying to picture it even as she leant in closer, hair falling in front of her eyes as she asked him as seriously as she could, “Did you win?”

He matched her, so close they were sharing breath, “Of course.”

Laughter filled the room, spilling out of her in waves as she flopped back against the pillow. It felt good,  _ so  _ good, her bones heavy with lethargy and yet somehow light enough that she felt she could float away entirely.

She’d missed him.

The thought stuck, all the darkness and uncertainty that still waited in the wings for her choosing that exact moment to sidle in and piss in her Cheerios. 

“We have to get up soon,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to fight it back. “Face reality.”

“And what’s reality?”

“Oh I’d say about a decade and half’s worth of guilt on my part for casually hooking up with the enemy,” she considered, feeling the distance grow between them even when they hadn’t moved an inch, “probably a similar amount of equivalent hardcore warrior angst on yours.”

“There’s nothing casual about us, Vers,” he said, fingers firming against her jaw and making her look at him, “there never was.”

“I love how that’s the part you take issue with,” she couldn’t look away from him, wishing she could stay in this moment forever. Just him and her and the silence,  “God, I wish this could work.”

“Why can’t it?”

She felt the desperation in his voice, felt its twin in her own chest. The thundering pulse like fists against her ribs, begging her to shut up and just enjoy something for once in her damned life. Being with him was like  _ flying _ .

Unfortunately though, eventually she always had to land.

He said he’d choose her, she’d believed him, but now... now she wasn’t so sure. Doubt crept through the cracks, insidious as it was unwelcome as it twisted itself into her mind, telling her she’d always come second to his Empire.

How could she not? 

She had been with the Kree for six years. Six years and she was willing to fight and die for them. To obey without question, well,  _ almost  _ without question. What must it have been like to have been raised like that from birth? If war was the only life you knew and weakness the greatest sin you could suffer?

It made her feel sick.  _ Sorry. _

Fury, Talos, Maria, they’d all opened her eyes for her. Shown her the truth behind the lies she’d lived, the other side of the equation and the cost of following orders.

Could she do that for him?

Would he even  _ let _ her?

“Say we can move past the brainwashing and murder,” She sighed, tracing her fingers over his wrist without meaning too. The rapid strength of his heartbeat chiming with her own, “how about the fact my best friends are humans and Skrulls, I mean, come on. Are you gonna be my date for their weddings? I’d always be worried you’d try and off them when I wasn’t looking.”

“I did what I believed to be right, Vers,” he countered seriously, “But things change, I meant what I said last night.  There will never be another decision. Only you. And besides,” he caught her hand, eyebrow hitching at her, “how many Skrull weddings are you really invited too?”

“Two in the next six months.”

“Ah,” he nodded mildly, “That could be a problem.” 

“We’re doomed.” She muttered to the ceiling.

Yon leant over her, yellow eyes meeting hers as he hung over her like a promise. His mouth open to say something, words of comfort, words of possession, she never found out.

_ Bam! Bam! Bam! _

The hammering on her door had her shooting upright, almost head butting Yon as she turned towards the sound.

“Captain Marvel!” A voice shouted from the other side, a security guard, Xandarian, “Captain! Hurry! Trouble in the meeting room!”

“Shit!” Rolling out of bed she threw herself into her underwear, having to stretch to retrieve her suit from the top of a lampshade, “Be right there.”

A familiar grunt behind her told her Yon was doing the same, sparing a glance back to see him swearing over the fastenings of his new uniform. Jamming her boots on she dashed over, pulling it shut for him before reaching for her gloves. He was too fast, closing his arms around her waist before she could dart away again. 

“Be safe.” He commanded, holding her steady for a handful of heartbeats. A fierce sort of worry burned behind his eyes, making her heart clench.

“Always am.” She replied, unable to keep herself from kissing him again. Just once. One last, perfectly imperfect moment right on the threshold of reality.

“Captain, please hurry!”

Right. Duty. Mission.

_ Clothing _ .

 

 


	5. Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I’m so sorry for the delay guys! But here is chapter 5, dedicated as always to DH for being an exquisite writer, fic sister and fellow cult leader! 💜
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading and commenting - I’m not sure how many chapters are gonna follow this but we’re getting close to the end now for sure 💜

 

His boots thundered against the concrete, eyes fixed for threats even as his chest  _ burnt  _ with the memory of her.

The lights were on in the corridor, the sun still hours from rising as he ran towards the sound of commotion. His warrior’s instincts snapped to the surface, keeping him moving as he chased down the sound, knowing it would be where  _ she _ was.

Did she even know what she did to him? How from the moment they’d met she’d been uprooting him inch by inch until he’d tipped all at once. Felled and fallen at her feet, and willing so.

He had always believed in his Empire, in the SI and the honour of his family name. He’d done things for them that made her six years with Star Force look like a party game. Dirty,  _ necessary _ things he’d seen no shame in. At least… he’d always believed they were necessary.

Now he only knew one mission, one drive, stay with her. 

“It’s a trap!” The voice of the Nova Prime carried out of the meeting hall, “this whole thing is!”

“I have no knowledge of any attack!” That was the Prince, he swung around the corner to find the two sides in open confrontation, “It is not us!”

And Vers was in the middle of it all.  _ Of course _ she was. Her outstretched arms all that was keeping the two heavily armed security forces at bay.

“So I’m  _ not  _ seeing an Kree Warship bearing down on us from orbit then?” The Prime snarled, Yon rushing a scan on his comms to confirm, “this is why we cannot trust the Kree, you’re dishonourable!”

“How dare you-”

“Enough!” Vers’s hands were glowing, eyes sparking as she silenced the room with a word. His breath still caught to see her like this, a living flame, “you swear you have no knowledge of this?” The Prince shook his head and her gaze turned to him, unreadable, “Commander Rogg, you’re the security liaison for the Kree. Did you know of this?”

His jaw clenched, her words a knife in his gut even as he forced himself to shake his head. This was her job.  _ His  _ job. It had to be done.

“I was given no indication of further personnel or transports joining us.” He said, words clipped and calm even as his heart raced, “nothing has come through the official channel although my scans show the Nova Prime is correct. There is a cruiser in orbit and a landing ship approaching.”

She nodded, seemingly impassive, but he saw the truth. The relief that sagged her shoulders just a fraction, easing the tension in her mouth. The faintest twitch of a smile.

“Alright then,” Squaring her shoulders she dropped her hands, “How about this then, everyone stays here,  _ doesn’t _ kill each other, and I go and check it out?” 

Her gaze travelled between the two factions warily, body alight with tension. The prince nodded, the Prime following suit with a terse glance at the other side.

“If they try anything-” The Prime started but Vers cut her off.

“They won’t,” she was completely confident as she turned away, “or they’ll have me to answer too. Both sides will. Mikel, alpha lock protocol.”

“Acknowledged.”

This was her element. Jaw set, eyes focused, stubborn as a rock as she headed for the door. Everything she’d been under his command and so much more.

She had become something beyond him, something beyond all of them, but it would still be a cold day in hell before he let her face whatever was going on outside alone. Not when he’d just got her back.

“I’ll join you,” he fell into step beside her before she had chance to object, “if they  _ are _ our people they’ll have me to answer to. Sae-Lem, protect the prince, Mae-Rae, you’re in charge of the team.”

He barely heard his comm buzz as they broke free of the gates, rushing towards the approaching landing party head on. 

 

—-

 

She skimmed through the darkness, feet barely touching the ground as they approached the ranks of Kree ahead. She’d never get sick of the feeling, of  _ flying,  _ she’d been made for it long before she ever got her powers. 

Flying was freedom.

“Stop.”

The voice rang through the night, utterly final as a figure broke ranks, a shadow backlit by the landing craft. Tall and hooded but instantly recognisable nonetheless.

Carol slowed, unease setting in. 

Ronan the Accuser.

She hadn’t been called to work with him often during her years with the Kree but the memory stuck regardless. His service was legendary, his methods unthinkable. If Star Force had been a scalpel, the Accuser had been a sledge hammer.

“Ronan, why have you come here?” Yon’s voice snapped her back to herself, hovering warily in place as he took the lead. One faithful Kree to another.

_ No _ . Not anymore. That was unfair of her,  he’d told her…

It didn’t matter.

She shook the thought off, stamping down on the never ending battle between joy and fear currently being waged in her chest. No matter what had passed between them he was still the security liaison here, and if he could end this without bloodshed then she would be grateful for it.

“The Emperor has heard of Xandar’s champion,” the Accuser raised a hand towards her, his blue skin glowing as he stepped into the light, “and dispatched us at once. It is dishonourable for the sides to be so unequally represented, true justice would see both sides matched evenly.”

It was cute they thought this made it an even fight. 

“I am not here as the Xandarian’s advocate,” she let her power simmer, settling on the grass below at last as she approached on foot instead. It didn’t matter that she could take them out without breaking a sweat, that wasn’t her mission.  _ Yet _ .  “I’m an independent party overseeing the talks, for the benefit of both sides.”

“Forgive me, Captain, if I find it hard to believe,” Ronan lifted his chin, purple eyes hard and sparkling like gemstones, “I am but an emissary of his Imperial Highness, he is monitoring the situation personally through our communication centre.” 

“Could we speak to him directly then?” She cut in. Get this shit show wrapped up before the sun rose and everything they’d been working on over the last week went to hell. Get it finished so she could go back to trying to figure out what had happened to her life.

“It is not standard procedure. Commander?” Ronan turned to Yon, Carol biting the inside of her cheek as she followed his gaze, “You’re the security liaison here.”

“I just received confirmation of the mission,” Yon nodded, attention flicking warily from them to his comms and back again, “I think it would be best to take this directly to the Emperor himself, before there are any further misunderstandings.”

“Very well,” Ronan nodded, stone faced as he motioned for his warriors to fall back. “This way.”

The craft was different from what she’d been expecting, the sleek walls of the Kree ships of her past replaced with heavy tapestries. Incense hung thickly in the air as they strode deep into the belly of the beast. It was creepy, the cloying mix of herbs and darkness, it would have been creepier if she didn’t know she could take them all out with one hand tied behind her back.

“Right through here,” Ronan bowed his head, towering over her as she passed into a communication centre that looked more like a temple.

“Where are the-”

She didn’t get the chance to finish the thought, white bursting behind her eyes.

 

\---

 

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Yon couldn’t process the sudden shift, half-blind in the wake of the flash of light. Eyes burning, he tried to rush forward only to be forced back, the end of Ronan’s war-hammer vibrating off his ribs as he struggled to make sense of it.

_ Vers _ . 

Vers was in trouble. 

He could just see her behind Ronan’s back, hanging limply in the air as she was dragged at by heavy mechanical arms. Wires slithered over her, wrapped so thick he could barely see the suit beneath.

He’d hated it at first, the red and blue corruption of their uniform. Now he would give anything for another glance.

“Rejoice, Commander,” Ronan’s voice crashed over him like a wave as Yon found his balance, fists clenching even as his mind raced to try and figure out what could have possibly incapacitated her. And how he could  _ stop _ it, “you have brought us the weapon and restored your honour. Thanks to you the Kree shall crush its enemies once and for all.”

“That was not the mission,” he growled, the vice in his chest twisting tighter and tighter, “I was sent by the Supreme Intelligence to oversee talks of peace, nothing more.”

“Yes you were,” Ronan’s face was still but there was madness in his eyes, bright and sharp as broken glass, “it was not deemed necessary to inform you of the greater mission. Return to your duties, Commander, the weapon is in my hands now.”

“I can’t do that, Ronan,” his hands itched for violence, body tensing up in preparation for a fight, “she is my bonded, by blood, and you  _ will  _ release her.”

The fractures in his control widened, breaking off in chunks as his eyes darted between the Accuser and Vers.  _ Wake up,  _ he pleaded silently,  _ wake the hell up Vers. _

“No,” Ronan sighed, “I will not. I see now, perhaps you are the source of her weakness. Perhaps stronger blood is called for.”

Ice flooded his veins, freezing him from within.

“ _ Blasphemy _ .”

“No, Yon-Rogg, what is blasphemous is a soldier too cowardly to die in honourable combat. One too weak to do what is right by his empire.” Ronan pressed forward with every word, the hard edge of his war-hammer shoved into Yon’s chest, forcing him backwards, “you are no fit Kree. And you are no longer her master.”

The door slammed shut between them, thick steel locking him from the room beyond. He lunged for it, violence bursting in his veins as he hammered at the lock. The first blow came from behind, taking him by surprise as he tried to force the door open, the second he was ready for.

He whirled, facing Ronan’s acolytes head on. Seven, all heavily armed. 

Fine. He’d face ten times as many to get back to Vers. He’d wipe out blood lines, crush entire planets. There were no limits when her safety was concerned.

And no hesitation.

 

—-

 

The first thing that hit her was the headache, temples throbbing as she struggled back to consciousness through the cloying scent of incense. She flexed her hands, panic lacing through her as she realised they were trapped.

She struggled on instinct, fight or flight kicking in as she fought against the heavy restraints. Arms encased to the elbow, legs to the knee, trussed up like a goddamn turkey in the gloomy little chamber.

Her eyes flew open, jerking backwards as they met a wine dark gaze. Ronan. The ship. The  _ trap. _

“You’ve awoken,” his voice was hushed, the timbre shaking through her as she stopped thrashing. Keeping an eye on her would-be-captor as she centred herself.

“You’re gonna regret this,” she told him calmly, letting her energy rise inside her. A slow building burn that she would very much enjoy releasing in his face even as she looked for Yon. Suddenly terrified by what Ronan might have done to him. 

He wasn’t there. Good, he could still be safe. She just had to get out of here and find him before she blew this ship to the beyond. 

“I doubt it,” Ronan murmured, sickness rushing through her as he reached up, cold fingers brushing the curve of her cheek, “you will be our salvation, Ver’an.”

_ Ver’an _ . She knew that term, even if she still couldn’t quite translate it back into English. Ver for Ver’ul,  _ ‘celestial.’  _ An for Tur’an, _ ‘weapon.’  _ Just what she needed, another fucking name.

“Yeah that’s not even close to right, bud.” She muttered jerking back and focusing her strength. The spark caught, the glow flooding her skin as she steeled herself, “dont say I didn’t warn you.”

She released the power, euphoria flooding her system as it burst out of her like sunshine. Bright and burning and  _ everything.  _ She strained forward, ready to crush her restraints like empty cans.

The metal whined, heated and heavy as it clung to her. Roaring she surged forward again, notching her power up and up as she poured her energy out into destruction. Ready to slap the smile off Ronan’s smug blue face.

Nothing happened.

“Such power,” the glow flickered, dying back into the gloom as Ronan stepped towards her again, “you are truly magnificent, Ver’an, together we will crush the enemies of the Empire. It shall be...  _ glorious _ .”

“What have you done to me?” She gasped, chest heaving as she tugged at her chains, power flickering. A match that wouldn’t quite spark. “Where… where’s Yon-Rogg?”

His face twisted, a ghost of distaste flickering over his features as he turned away, “he’s done his part and secured you for the Empire. His mission is done.”

_ No _ . Her stomach twisted, he wouldn’t betray her like that. Not after what they’d been through. What they’d...  _ done... _ together. 

_ He’d promised her. _

She didn’t have time for the pain in her chest, the unbearable sharpness that seemed to slice straight between ribs like a knife. Anything that wasn’t getting out of here and smashing Ronan into the dirt could wait.

_ Come on Carol,  _ she gritted her teeth, bones shaking as she dragged her power back up to the surface,  _ let’s try this again. _

“It’s a power sink, Ver’an,” he smiled, leaning back against the far wall as she froze in her chains, “the more you give it the stronger it gets. Please, don’t stop though, when your fight is done the real work can begin, besides-” He smiled, eyes slipping over her and making her shudder, “it is even more beautiful to see up close.”

Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat as she stared at him in horror. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be trapped here, she couldn’t be trapped  _ anywhere.  _

Not again.

  
  



	6. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue the trend of wildly making shit up, and of course stealing generously from the work of DenseHumboldt who has turned Kree Ceremonies into a legitimate art form! 😍
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone still reading and commenting, you give me life! 💜

 

The floor was slick with blood, his feet slid as he hurled another punch. Muscle hit flesh, the sound harsh and meaty as Yon cracked the guards jaw like a wishbone.

They went down hard, tangled on the floor as Yon pounded again and again. The guard got a blow in, third rib, fractured, the pain sharp enough to topple him sideways. He couldn’t stay down. Trapping a groan behind clenched teeth he dragged himself upright, hurling his body over his enemies and fixing his hands around their throat.

Yon squeezed, panting hard as he forced the air from the man’s lungs, not letting up until his legs shook and his eyes rolled back. Limping grimly to his feet he scooped up the guard’s fallen blaster, aiming it square between his eyes and firing.

He wouldn’t get up again.

 _None_ of them would.

There was no room for mercy here, there was no room for anything but getting back to her.

The corridor echoed with the sound of his breathing, blood stinging his eyes. Staining his skin as blue as any of his forefather’s as he levelled his weapon at the empty hallway. It was deserted but for the bodies.

_Good._

One less thing between him and Vers. He checked the door again, scowling to find it sealed tight. His access codes did nothing, the tricks he’d picked up worthless as he pounded at the pad.

Inhaling sharply he turned away, a comm center in a 4-1 class landing ship would have more than one entrance. The one to from the gantry and a second facing the bridge.

Checking his weapon on instinct, he took stock of himself. Two fractured ribs, a swollen eye, blaster hits to the shoulder, the chest, the thigh.

Grimacing he steeled himself, pain pushed as far back as he could as he leant into his training. He was still breathing, and if he was still breathing he was finding his way back to her.

No matter the cost.

 

—-

 

She was still struggling when Ronan’s attendants came in.

Three Kreloran nuns.

Carol shuddered as she recognised them, their faces scarred and shaped in supplication. The half-blood offspring of the Kree with _‘unsuitable’_ races, Krelorans were deemed unfit to serve as warriors so they dedicated their life in other ways instead; as servants, temple maidens and attendants.

They were as fanatical as the strongest Kree, their dedication proven in each painful scar they bore. Once she had admired them for it, the pride they took in serving the Empire as they did. Dedicating themselves body and soul to the Kree warriors they served, fully committed to their cause even if they couldn’t fight themselves.

Now she just felt sick.

“You don’t have to do this,” she struggled to turn her head as they circled her, their faces pale beneath their steeped hoods, “you don’t have to follow this mad man anymore.”

Ronan shook his head, tutting softly as he reached for her again. Fingers ghosting over her cheek, not quite touching. She bared her teeth, snapping at him when he came to close. She’d bite a chunk out of the bastard and spit it in his face if he gave her half a chance.

“Prepare her.” He commanded, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he turned away. “We will begin soon.”

Her blood froze, congealing in her veins as he left and the women approached. Their hands were cold, eyes blank as they reached for the fastening of her suit. She struggled, Powers fritzing and flaring as she tried to fight them off.

“Don't touch me,” she snarled, bucking back in her restraints. Muscles _burning_ as they found the catch and dragged it down, “don’t listen to him.”

The air was sticky against her sweat-slicked skin, humid as they exposed the compression vest beneath. Tugging the suit silently down her shoulders as far is it could go.

The first photon-suppressor went on the left side of her neck. Body jerking at the electric current that spiked through her veins. The second went on the right side. The next beneath her collar bones. Her ribs. Above her navel and low on her stomach.

Each one was a knife, a sharp stabbing that made her teeth grind hard enough she feared they’d shatter. The power sink was bad enough, now even trying to spark her powers made her skin twitch. Electric heat and icy dread curdling inside her.

The attendants started chanting, a low monotonous song as they drew away from her. Pulling back a tapestry they retrieved a large black lacquered box from within. Unfastening it with carefully coordinated movements, like a dance.

The scent of it hit her first, pungent and sickly, the sweet decay of something rotting in the undergrowth.

_Blood leaf._

She forced herself to stop struggling, fighting against the panic even as it threatened to swamp her entirely. She went into herself, sucking in shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid the smell.

It made her head spin, made her remember things she didn’t want to remember. The Warrior’s Ritual was a sacred thing, a special cleansing to be undertaken with respect in your heart and courage in your bones. Yon had taught her, one of her most cherished memories from _before_.

This… this was an abomination.

Pouring the herb into a shallow dish of water the attendants returned again, one holding it up as the others scrubbed at her exposed skin. Their rough sponges scraping into her like broken glass, working in broad strokes away from her heart as they anointed her with it.

These women would never be deemed worthy of the ritual themselves. The society wouldn’t stand for it, not for a half breed. Another backwards ass trait she’d never seen before.

The rage calmed her, steadying her against the repetitive motions as the chant grew.

“Kree-Nai ei a mortan yalla . A Kree gi Tu’mera. Naya ka, alon.”

She knew the words by heart.

 _Blood leaf purify those who walk with death. The Empire needs their strength. Inhale and overcome_ . _.._

The words stuck, echoing in her head as the attendants lowered their sponges, picking up bowls of crushed herbs and the white dirt of Hala’s sacred caves instead. The song reverberating in her head as the powder hit, staining her skin and pluming up into her face. Thick and choking.

_Naya ka, Alon._

The first attendant had another bowl now, one she’d never seen used before. The blood-pigment of the ancient orders, fingers smeared with it as she reached for Carol’s throat.

_Inhale and overcome._

Or, more literally, ‘ _take it in and overcome.’_

Take it in.

She’d given all she had, fed every flicker of her power into the maw of the machine they’d trapped her in. Burnt and burnt until she felt drained and empty and the lights on the walls _buzzed_ with power.

Maybe she’d given enough.

Maybe it was time to try _taking_ instead.

The attendants fingers touched her skin, slick and icy cold as she marked the path of her veins with it. Carol inhaled, ignoring the sensation completely as she focused on the wires jammed into her skin instead. They’d taken her powers from her.

Now she wanted them back.

 

—-

 

“We will be aboard the Destroyer in fifteen minutes, Accuser.”

Ronan nodded to the pilot, dismissing the conversation without a word and walking away. The ship was dark, as he liked it, his fingers tracing idly over the heavy tapestries as he worked his way back to his inner sanctum. The place he had created especially for _her._

She was so close now, physically and spiritually, the scent of blood leaf and home soil drifting out to him even here. He inhaled it greedily, forcing himself to stop outside the door to better take it in.

The image of her rose behind his eyelids. The weapon, the woman, bright gold and burning. The fruit of his efforts ripening at last, the sweetest he would ever taste. A worthy legacy at last, one that would see his Empire’s enemies crushed into dust, their memory lost to the wind.

Of course the real work wouldn’t begin until they’d returned to Hala, but first she must be cleansed of the filth of the outside world. The stain of the Xandarians scrubbed from her skin. A blank slate, ready for his mastery.

Blood thrumming just a little bit faster he turned towards the chamber, she should be ready by now.

“ _Ronan.”_

 

—-

 

The first shot went wide, the pain throwing his aim as Yon charged down the corridor towards the Accuser.

He knew he had to be close, this just confirmed it. Checking his blaster he fired again, every nerve in his body screaming at him to get to Vers.

The floor shook, the screech of the bolt deflecting off Ronan’s war-hammer reverberating through his eardrums. He didn’t slow, even when the blaster jammed, switching his grip he leapt at his enemy. Smashing the butt of the gun into Ronan’s jaw before he had time to react.

The blow landed, hard and true, his elation lasting less than a second before Ronan was sweeping him away. The heavy blow of his arm sending Yon skidding across the corridor.

Seizing onto a tapestry to right himself Yon heaved, ripping it from the wall. The pole tumbled with it, heavy in his hands as he swung the makeshift weapon upwards. It was no match for Ronan’s war-hammer but it would do.

What he wouldn’t give for his Magnitron Gauntlets.

“Have you come to die with honour, Yon-Rogg?” Ronan taunted him, drawing himself up to his full height, “you must know such a thing is beyond you now. Nothing waits for you in the afterlife but _darkness.”_

 _Fine_.

Yon didn’t care, not any more. The only thing that mattered to him was trapped five feet away from him behind that door. It didn’t matter want Ronan threatened, or how much fire power he wielded, it wouldn’t be enough to stop Yon now.

“You’re in my way.”

Ronan scowled, heaving the war-hammer in his hands. Yon didn’t wait for him to strike first. Whirling his makeshift staff he charged, ducking the first blow and landing a sharp jab to the Accusers ribs. Ronan may have been bigger but Yon was faster _._ Darting back on his heels he drove the staff into the back of Ronan’s neck, wincing as the metal bent and Ronan barely stumbled.

Adrenaline flooded him, numbing the worst of the pain as he parried and struck. Grunting with the effort of staying upright as Ronan caught him with a blow to the ribs, the snap ringing in his ears as he stumbled.

“Give up,” Ronan roared, swinging the hammer up again, “accept the truth.”

The pain shocked him, coursing through Yon’s veins as he righted himself. Eyes narrowed, he surged forward again.

He couldn’t hold back. Not now.

His next strike landed with a thud, the pain driving him harder than ever as he twisted and struck again. And again. Doggedly avoiding every blow as he forced his opponent back on his heels, crowding him so he couldn’t get a good swing of his weapon.

“And what…” he gasped, sweat stinging his eyes slammed the staff into Ronan’s wrist in an attempt to break his grip on the hammer completely, “is _that?”_

He felt it the exact moment the fight changed, the glorious pulse of victory turning sour in his veins as Ronan _smiled_. He didn’t have time to think, a foot hooking behind his ankle, a fist thudding into his gut.

His spine met steel. Breath leaving him in a rush as Ronan shoved him into the wall, driving the handle of his weapon into his throat.

“ _You chose wrong_ ,” Ronan hissed, pressing hard. Yon could feel his fingers numbing already, scrabbling desperately for purchase as Ronan crushed his windpipe like a paper tube. “You chose your _feelings_ over your Empire. And now you will die for it.”

“There… was… no choice…” he gasped, throat screaming with every word as his vision started to blacken at the edges,“Only _her.”_

Always her.

He only wished he had been worthy. That he had been strong enough to save her.

That he hadn’t failed her in death as he had so many times in life.

 

 


	7. Promise Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh this is so late! I’m so sorry guys - it took me a while to figure out what had to be written.
> 
> I can’t believe it but we’re at the end! Just an epilogue after this I think and then we’re out - it’s been a helluva ride though! I can safely say this fandom is one of the coolest I’ve ever been in and I want to thank every single one of you who’ve read, kudo’d and commented for keeping me writing! 💜

 

It started as a trickle. A faint tug of power at the very tippy tip tips of Carol’s fingers.

She tensed, sweat dripping from her brow into closed eyes as she tried to reach beyond herself. Calm. She had to be calm, _relaxed_ , she couldn’t shoot off on all cylinders like she usually did.

Pull it in, not shoot it out.

The room was silent, the attendants been and gone. Leaving her to stew in the incense laden air before Ronan returned, a freshly scrubbed sacrifice to his ego. She gritted her teeth against the urge to struggle, to buck and scream and claw at her restraints.

_Breathe through it Vers._

Yon’s voice echoed up from her memory, a laugh choking in her throat at the irony of it. That he might inadvertently be the one to save her from the fate _he’d_ left her too. He’d _possibly_ left her too.

She couldn’t go down that pathway, the weight of his maybe-betrayal was too sharp, too stunning. If she let it, it would swallow her whole. Instead she forced herself into stillness, pushing back to the lessons he’d tried so hard to drum into her.

The ones she’d always been too stubborn to listen too.

Breathe in threes. Listen to your heartbeat, slow it, _feel_ it. She focused on the heavy beat of it in her chest, the pulse of blood in her veins as she stretched outwards. The warmth was there, an electric shock shivering in the air, _hers._ She pulled at it, tugging on each tiny thread of power and winding it slowly into her skin. Sinking it deep into her bones and then going back for more.

The electrodes in her skin carried a spark, one that had been used to control her for far too long, the machines they’d shaped to her arms and legs heavy with the remnants of her power. She breathed it in, lining herself with it, around her the ship shuddered as it climbed higher in the atmosphere. The sounds of shouting just outside of the door filtering through to her, distant and unconnected and…

_“Ronan.”_

_Yon_. She heard Yon. Her muscles jerked, almost breaking the connection as the distant sounds became a roar. A rhythmic pound of metal against metal and fists against flesh.

What was he doing?

Had they turned on him? Had he turned on them? Her stomach clenched, head spinning with hope. Desperate to believe that maybe he hadn’t betrayed her at all.

Not again.

Gritting her teeth she pulled harder, she couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t fail. The suppressors flared, jittering and whining as they died against her skin, the chains they’d bound her in becoming conduits as the power roared to meet her.

The sound of the fight was growing dimmer, one final harsh strike ringing in her ears before silence reigned.

Her head snapped back, the lights flickering above her as her mouth opened in a silent scream. It rushed in at once, all they’d taken and more, a supernova struggling beneath her skin as it filled up every empty space in her soul.

The restraints hissed, melting away in chunks as she shuddered. She let it take her, accepting it, all of it, and channelling the familiar burn into something more. Turning on her heel she headed towards the door Ronan had left through.

Towards _him._

 

—-

 

His vision had narrowed to a thin sliver in the blackness, lungs burning for air even as he felt his heart stuttering. Giving up on him at last.

He always thought death, when it came, would be a vicious affair. Righteous and harsh and so violent it would elevate him to a new level of being.

He was wrong.

This was the opposite, a sense peace settling over him that made everything else fade away. Everything but _her._

She was glorious as she appeared, lit up from within like he’d never seen her before. Eyes burning with white fire, skin crackling with blue. A beacon against the black, beckoning him towards her light.

He hadn’t expected his thoughts to be so kind to him, that whatever benevolent force still watched over him would allow him this final image. The pain in his throat eased, sweet oxygen flooding his lungs as he drank her in.

 

—-

 

“ _Let. Him. Go_.”

Ronan faltered, his grip loosening despite himself as he turned from his task. It had felt worthy, choking the life out of Star Force’s once legendary commander. To wipe his blood from their great history entirely, this pitiful man who’d tried to stand between him and his destiny.

Now it seemed his destiny had other ideas.

“This is impossible,” he heard himself say, jaw slackening as he took her in. Free of the restraints and dripping with power.

Ver’an lit up the corridor, more powerful than even he had ever imagined. The storm itself as she strode towards him. Her suit was torn down the centre, golden skin painted blue-black with the marks of the ritual he had planned. It marked the veins in her throat, the space above her heart. _Rebirth_ , the ancient symbols read, _ascension._ Sweat smeared the marks now, bleeding them into the edges of her white vest.

She was a lightning bolt made flesh.

“Oh, it’s _possible,_ Ronan.” She snarled, the floor beneath her flickering and singing with every step she took towards him. The durasteel melting beneath her fury.

He had underestimated her, it was a shock to him but it was undeniable. She stalked towards him, beautiful death with his name on her lips. She was everything the Empire aspired to be, a perfect weapon.

And he had failed to tame her.

_Yet._

Dropping his war-hammer he seized the Commander instead, dragging him in front of him as a shield. The dagger he pulled from his waist was ceremonial but, like all Kree weapons, utterly practical. The black blade stark against the Commander’s throat as he held it to the flagging pulse there.

She had a weakness, after all, Yon-Rogg’s fatal sentimentality going both ways.

It was as distasteful as it was useful.

“Return to your chains or he dies.” He demanded, face pulling at the thought of a creature like her caring for someone so flawed as the _Commander._ She deserves someone better, _stronger_ , someone who could use her properly.

Her mouth twisted, beautiful and bone chilling all at once as she took another step towards him. Casting twisting shadows against the walls with every step.

“There are no more chains, Accuser,” she sneered, “and there’s no more chances. Either you let him go or I _burn_ _you alive._ ”

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Gritting his teeth he shook his head at her, “you have disappointed me, Ver’an.”

“Cry me a river.”

She wouldn’t do it, he knew it from the way her face twitched. The flicker of concern as she tried ever so hard not to look at the Commander, _weakness._ He could have freed her from it, he could have…  

Ronan shook his head, swallowing down the thought as practicality set in. He had lost this battle, but the war was still in play. There would be other chances, stronger chains. He could save her, but he would have to survive this first.

“You have a choice, Ver’an,” he stepped backwards, dragging the Commander with him. Blood beading blue against his skin where the dagger pressed too tightly. “You cannot save him and kill me both.”

“Wha-”

He struck. Slicing the blade into the Commander’s shoulder, he threw the other man forward. Blood coating his hand, fingers slick with it as he wrenched open the tapestry at the end of the hall and dove into the hidden compartment beyond, slamming the door shut and releasing the escape pod into the sky.

 _Sentimentality_.

It was why he would always win in the end.

 

—-

 

Carol barely registered the sudden rush of the air-lock, the whine of a shuttle breaking free lost to her own scream as she stumbled forward.

She caught Yon as he fell, the fire in her skin dying down to embers as they crashed to the floor. He was pale. _Too_ pale. Skin clammy beneath her shaking hands as she forced pressure against the wound, her fingers drenched in blue within seconds.

It was a clean strike just below his clavicle, deep and sharp and spilling over. It would need patching or he’d bleed out, not to mention the damage it might have done to his insides. If it had punctured his lung...

“Yon?” She heard her voice through the ringing in her ears, time slowing down around her as she tried to _think_ , “Yon talk to me.”

He was the Commander, the one always in control. For six years he’d been a legend in her eyes, someone untouchable, _invincible_. He was the one who solved her problems, saved her from her nightmares. Even as enemies she hadn’t been able to kill him, the thought of it was too abstract. Too unbelievable.

Now… now he was all to mortal.

“‘Bout time you showed up, Vers.” He wheezed, mouth twitching into a smile as he looked up at her with dull yellow eyes, golden skin turning grey as he blinked at her, “late as… as always.”

She choked, laughing and crying at the same time as she pressed her fingers tighter against the wound.

“Sorry Commander,” she murmured, smoothing his hair back from his forehead with her free hand and wincing at the heat of his skin, “I was a bit tied up.”

He looked like he wanted to reply but all that came out was a groan of pain. His back arched, spasming violently in her arms.

This was bad. This was really _really_ bad.

She couldn’t breathe, panic making her sloppy as she opened up her gauntlet to pull out an emergency med patch. Everything was stained with blue, his blood, _their_ blood, coating everything with a layer of sweet-smelling horror.

It wouldn’t be enough.

She wasn’t a medic but she knew enough to know that, enough to know with a horrifying certainty that she couldn’t save him _and_ destroy the war ship above them at the same time.

Ronan was right. She had to make a choice.

Only this time there was no choice at all.

“Come on,” she muttered, gathering him up in her arms and staggering to her feet, “We have a mission, soldier.”

 

—-

 

Chaos reigned around the compound, figures rushing too and fro across the tarmac as Carol landed the stolen ship so hard she almost crashed it. Yon was awkward in her arms as she stormed down to the ground, feet barely skimming the surface as she headed for the building.

“ _Medic.”_ She demanded, light bursting from her skin as she cut a wide swathe through the noise. “Now.”

She always thought she’d put her duty first, but reality was never that easy. Ronan could escape, the Kree could fight another day, but Yon had to survive, there was no other option.

No other choice.

Enemies or lovers, it didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t bear the idea of a world without him in it.

“This way,” a woman shouted, falling into her orbit as Carol stalked into the base, “the Kree delegation has already left. The Xandarians are leaving too.”

She didn’t care, the peace talks, the galaxy, in that moment it could all burn and she would hardly notice.

“You’re a doctor?” Carol asked, fear bursting against the back of her throat as the woman dragged open a door and led her into a sterile white room. Time no longer seemed to make sense to her, rushing and dragging in turns as she carefully moved Yon to the table in the centre, laying him reverentially upon its surface.

“Healer,” the woman corrected, pushing Carol gently aside as she examined Yon, “from Nulla’s main city.”

She stood frozen at the edge of the room. She’d never felt this helpless before. Not once. Before it had always been in her hands, she was the one who got knocked down so _she_ was the one to drag herself up again. She pulled herself out of the dirt over and over, she fought back, she made the difference.

Here she could do nothing but _watch_.

“Save him,” she begged, her heart squeezing so hard it threatened to burst. She couldn’t look away from the shallow rise and fall of his chest, even as her eyes burnt. “ _Please.”_

The fear that each breath he took would be his last almost crushed her.

“That’s what I’m trying to say, ma’am,” the healer placed a hand on her arm, the regret in her eyes making Carol want to vomit. She looked so _final,_ “the Kree are _gone._ I can patch his wounds but he's lost too much blood… ”

_Blood._

She almost laughed, the sound coming out as a sob as she ripped her gloves off. Her gauntlets went next, clattering to the floor as she pulled up her sleeves.

“Take mine,” she held her right arm out, curling the fingers of her other hand in Yon’s, “it belongs to him anyway.”

 

 


	8. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, and thank you so much for sticking with me and reading this story! It’s really meant the world to me 💜
> 
> Especially you DH, this story wouldn’t exist without you!

 

 

The pain was far off, a distant throb that seemed to encase him like a shell even if never quite fully touched him. 

Yon cracked an eyelid, head aching as light spilt into him, his abused ribs prickling with every breath. He’d been in a fight, that much was clear, if he’d won or not was less certain.

Peering around he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his instincts on a delay. He should be up, moving, scanning, prepared for any threat in an alien environment. Instead he just looked.

Grey walls, white bed, skin dark with bruises in the low fluorescent glow. The distant thunder of an engine scraping through space. A woman in a chair, her hand curled in his, eyes shut, head slumped against her shoulder in a tangle of golden hair.

_ Vers. _

His heart stuttered so violently it awoke a whole new barrage of aches and pains, his hand clenching in hers automatically as the feeling of her warm palm in his came into focus. There were dark circles under her eyes, skin uncharacteristically pale as she slept tensely beside him.

“You look terrible, Vers.” He murmured, voice sticking in his throat with misuse.

Her head snapped up all at once, jerking to life as she whirled around on him. Moving so fast she almost dislodged the IV from her arm. He hadn’t noticed it before, the clear plastic tube filled with blue-black blood, the one leading directly into his veins.

“You’re an asshole you know that!” She half-shouted, her hand clenching in his so hard he winced. Not that he wanted her to let go of course, no amount of bruises or broken bones could spoil the rightness he felt with her so close.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he quipped weakly, his memories swimming hazily into focus as he watched the blood drip drip drip from her to him. Ronan, the ambush, the fight. His stomach churned queasily, looking up at her in sudden concertation,  “I didn’t know, you have to believe me on that. I never would have… I have betrayed you many times, Vers. But not now.”

“I know,” she nodded, loosening her grip on him and exhaling hard, “for a minute I thought…” she shook her head, throat working hard as she swallowed. “But I know. We’ve got issues, a shit ton of them really, but not that.”

“Ronan?” He made himself ask, unwilling to break this strange, still peace but knowing he had to know the truth. He was still a warrior after all, no matter where his allegiance lay.

“He got away,” she sighed, “and the talks broke down soon after. I was going to… but you were…”

His heart squeezed. 

“They won’t stop hunting you.” He said, chest aching with so much more than just broken ribs and busted muscles, “Ronan, the Supreme Intelligence.”

Her shoulder hitched, hair tumbling into her eyes, “let them try. They haven’t got me so far.”

Words stuttered on his tongue, clumsy confessions he couldn’t quite say as she slouched back in her chair. Exhausted. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her like this, her wan smile fading fast as she toyed with the medical tube. 

“Where are we?” He should know, he should prepare. 

“My ship,” she mumbled, unlatching the IV from her skin. A single drop of blue beaded at the join of her elbow before she patched it up again, the bruises there telling him it wasn’t the first transfusion. She had saved him,  _ again,  _ so many times and in so many ways he was beginning to lose count, “Nulla wasn’t safe anymore. I can… I can leave you on a border planet though, if you want, when you’re better. If you want to go back…”

“The Kree are my people,” he said, mouth bitter with the words as he watched her pack up the IV, removing the needle from his arm ever so carefully, “my culture, but  _ you _ are my home. Let me serve you instead.”

She hesitated, hovering over him with dark, fathomless eyes. 

“No,” she said eventually, his heart squeezed sharply, every ache and pain falling away in comparison to that one perfect hurt, “I don’t want you to serve me Yon, not like that. Not out of some weird sense of duty.”

“If you still think this is about duty you’re a fool,” his mouth twitched, throat tight as she looked down at him from far too close, “I love you, Carol Danvers, for better or worse. You have always been able to save yourself, but now… now I’m hoping you can help save me too.”

For a second he was sure she would reject him for good, cast him out as he so rightly deserved, but then her cheek twitched. Mouth pulling into a soft smile.

“I suppose I could find room for you somewhere, then,” she said, medical kit abandoned as she smoothed a hand through her hair, “it does get kinda lonely up here.”

“Not anymore,” he promised, ignoring the screaming of his muscles as he stretched upwards, hands shaking as he pulled her face down to his and kissed her, “never again.”

 

—-

 

The message light was blinking on her console, it had been since she left the planet surface.

Green, low priority, low enough that Carol let herself ignore it as she reconfigured the nav-system. Yellow meant trouble, orange meant danger, and red meant  _ move.  _ Setting the autopilot to drift towards the closest jump point she stared at the flashing little light for a long minute.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Yon asked, a foil wrapped ration pack in his hand as he slipped into the seat beside her. The bruises had faded fast, leaving him almost himself again as he bit into the nutri-slab.

“It’s probably from Earth,” she warned, flicking the switch back over to autopilot, “or an invitation to another Kree wedding.”

His nose crinkled in distaste, holding the stale slab away from him and looking at her with bright golden eyes, “will there be proper food there at least?”

She grinned, there was still a lot unsaid between them, she couldn’t deny it. Questions that needed answering and reparations that needed to be made, but right now it didn’t seem to matter. 

She drew up the communication log, heart lighter than it had been in as long as she could remember as she shrugged at him, “Only one way to find out.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did please consider leaving a little comment, I can’t tell you what they mean to me 💜


End file.
